


The Best Part of Waking Up

by erebones



Series: The Twelve Days of Fever [10]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Modern Thedas, Satinalia, folgers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 12:32:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9181993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erebones/pseuds/erebones
Summary: Carver's back home for the holidays after a two-year dig in the Western Approach, and Felix waited up for him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Let me just state: there is no incest in this fic. But because I'm hilarious, it IS based on that super weird, incest-y Folgers commercial that aired a while back. If you don't know what I'm talking about, [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z5Ir6CzxKl4) it is. I high recommend watching it before reading this fic. ;)

Hightown Street is perfectly still as Carver steps out of the taxi and just stands there, letting the early morning snowfall drift down onto his head and shoulders. The house is just like he remembers: high brick walls, tall windows shaded with the wispy, romantic drapes that his mother favors. The walkway hasn’t been shoveled recently, and the steps are covered in last night’s snowfall, leading to a broad whitewashed door adorned with an enormous wreath. 

The trunk slams shut behind him and he jumps, turning to watch the cabbie approach with his bag. He doesn’t have much—it’s only two weeks that he’s here, on leave from a dig in the Western Approach—but he thanks the man profusely all the same, and takes care to tip him a little extra. The _Happy Satinalia, serrah_ he receives is merry indeed. 

“Happy Satinalia,” he murmurs to himself, shouldering his backpack as the cab pulls away and leaves him standing there, alone. 

It’s silly, but he’s nervous. He hasn’t been home in two years. First his studies took him out of the Marches, then he got a job with the University of Starkhaven on an extended dig out west. The last time he saw his siblings in person was when they flew out to meet him for his and Bethy’s birthday last year. Ever since then it’s only been phonecalls and emails and skype conversations, usually at odd hours of the day or night thanks to the time difference. He palms his phone in his pocket, silent since he landed an hour ago at four in the morning. Now it’s barely dawn, and he’s home. Just in time for Satinalia. 

He’s got his foot on the last step to the front door when the latch gives a quiet _snick_ and swings open. Carver stops and swallows hard. Standing there in the doorway is not Bethy, or Gare, or his mother… but Felix. Doe-eyed with sleep, wearing pyjama pants and one of Carver’s old MinU sweatshirts, and grinning so wide his eyes have nearly disappeared behind his long lashes. 

Carver fumbles a moment and lands haphazardly on humor. “I must have the wrong house.”

“ _Carver_.” His voice is gritty but full of laughter, and he darts the two steps it takes to throw himself into Carver’s arms. Carver catches him, in spite of the hefty weight of his backpack, and buries his face in his shoulder, breathing him in. “Maker, I missed you so much.”

“You shouldn’t be standing in the snow, ridiculous man,” Carver says roughly, refusing to let him back down until there’s a welcome mat safely under his feet. His heart is slamming against his ribs, but he’s not nervous anymore. He dumps his pack on the floor just inside and cups Felix’s face in his hands, grinning when Felix grips his forearms and leans toward him. “Did you wait up for me?”

“Tried to.” He fights back a yawn, fails, and smothers it in Carver’s palm instead. “Fell asleep on the couch. Bethy’s on the other one.” He taps his lips to indicate quiet.

Carver takes his cue from Felix, releasing him to turn and shut the front door as quietly as he can. He leaves the pack where it is for now and follows him into the kitchen. The smell of a good old Kirkwall roast fills his nose and he ducks over the coffee pot, breathing deep. “Mmmm. Real coffee.”

“Just for you.” 

Felix is moving around the kitchen like he lives here, and it makes Carver indescribably happy. Back when they were roommates in college, Felix had come to visit a few times during the summers, but it’s clear that since he moved permanently to Kirkwall, he’s become a fixture at the Hawke residence. He even grabs for Carver’s favorite mug without being told: a rough-hewn ceramic monstrosity with a chipped handle that Bethy made for him in her obligatory Art 101 class. Felix glances at him over the pot as he pours, and the steam rises to mask his blush. 

“Cream or sugar? Or do you take it black these days, like a real man?”

Carver snorts. “Just a little milk.” He lowers himself to a stool at the island and holds out his hands for the mug when it’s offered. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“What, coffee? That’s easy. It’s on a timer, you know.” He hesitates a moment, then boosts himself up onto the island counter, sock feet swinging into empty space. Carver lets his arms sprawl until he’s leaning against him, and Felix digs his fingers gently into his hair. Carver shuts his eyes. “Carv? You all right?”

“I—I’ve got a present for you,” he blurts, pushing away from the counter suddenly. “I brought it for you, all the way from the Western Approach.” 

“A long way,” Felix murmurs, and lets him go. 

In the entryway again, he kneels down and digs around in his pack and tries to get control of himself. He hasn’t seen Felix in ages—not in person, anyway. They’ve texted endlessly these last few months, ever since Carver got up the stones to tell him how he felt about him. Skype calls, too, made grainy and laggy with distance, but precious all the same. Even so, it’s been a long-distance relationship from the start, and now that they’re in the same country again—hell, in the same _house_ —Carver isn’t sure how to proceed. 

His hand knocks against the package he seeks, and he unearths it with care from the middle of his backpack. His wrapping job had been shoddy to begin with, and being smushed and tossed about in his pack on the flight hadn’t helped matters, but it’s the thought that counts, right? He takes a deep breath and returns to the kitchen. 

“Here.” He drops it in Felix’s hands and sits back down, hard, gripping his mug for dear life. “Don’t tell Bethy I gave you yours first, okay?”

Felix turns it over in his hands a few times, almost as if trying to guess what it is before he opens it. Then, quite suddenly, he pulls the bedraggled bow off and sticks it to Carver’s shirt. Carver blinks. 

“What…?”

“You’re my present this year,” Felix says quietly, perfectly sincere. He looks at Carver from under his lashes, a bit shyly, and Carver’s heart swells. 

“Fee…”

“...Carv?” It’s Bethy’s voice, weak and rough from sleep as she stirs in the other room. 

Carver looks back from the entrance to the kitchen to see Felix watching him, expression shuttered. He only has a moment. He takes a breath and cups his boyfriend’s cheek, leaning in. When there’s no attempt to pull away, he closes the distance, brushing their lips together softly. Felix clutches his shirt and kisses back. It’s sweet, gentle, perfect. And there are footsteps coming their way to interrupt them. 

“Carv! It _is_ you!”

They’ve pulled away just in time for Beth to careen around the corner, throwing herself at her brother much like Felix had a few minutes ago. Carver picks her up and swings her around, laughing when she punches his shoulder for giving Felix a present before her. “There’s one for you, too,” he promises, ruffling her hair. “One for _all_ of you,” he amends. Overhead he can hear the rumbling voices of Garrett and Fenris getting out of bed, the click of Dog’s heels on the floor. If the commotion hasn’t woken her already, soon his mother will probably be joining the welcome party, such as it is. His gaze finds Felix’s over his twin’s head. 

_Later_ , Felix mouths, still holding his unopened package. It’s nothing too special, just a piece of a crystal shard dating back a few centuries—there are a hundred pieces like it out in the desert, which is why he felt okay about nicking one—but the color reminded him of Felix’s eyes, dark and complex with glittering blue-green depths. He smiles back at him, chest tight. _Later._ Later, they’ll have all the time in the world. 


End file.
